Aliyah’s POV
Pain throbbed through every inch of my body. My ribs ached with every breath, my face burned where his hands had struck, and my arms felt heavy, bruised, and useless. Cohen had hurt me so badly that I could barely feel my own skin. My vision blurred from the tears that had dried on my cheeks hours ago, leaving behind the bitter taste of salt and despair.
He had tried again, forcing his weight on me, trying to take what was never his. His breath had reeked of whiskey and cruelty as I twisted and fought beneath him. I bit his arm when he tried to kiss me, and he slapped me hard across the face, snarling like an animal.
“Stop fighting me,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that made my stomach twist. “You owe me this, Aliyah.”
“I owe you nothing,” I cried, my voice breaking.
